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SHANDIE
Carlisle had given me a deadline before we could go and the intent in his eyes was clear. He was making sure I went – or else.
I stared at myself in the mirror and glared, “Yeah, you’re so strong. You were able to turn him down, but what? You think for once your anxiety won’t rear up? When, in the history of ever has your anxiety ever left you alone?” I muttered at myself, grabbing my stand-by bottle of Xanax from the counter. Tapping out a pill, I dry swallowed it and tucked my chin.
“I can't believe I let him guilt me into going with him.” It hadn’t taken much guilt, either. There in my house and excited to see Carlisle again when it wasn’t work related, I felt stronger, more secure – like I could take on all the people of Spokane and not be even the slightest bit anxious.
Relying on my pills was going to cost me – not money but in pride. I just knew it!
Closing the bottle and putting it on the counter, I leaned forward to brace my hands on the edge of the sink. I hung my head, anxious for the Xanax to take over.
My stubbornness kicked in well ahead of the medication and I realized I couldn’t back out. Not if I wanted Carlisle to like me. And somehow, since we’d started working together, I realized I did want him to like me. Very much.
I was a logical person. Maybe I could rationalize my anxiety away. To get over to the arena would be close to two hours from where we were. Maybe longer. The drive in the car wouldn’t be a big deal. I could handle that part. But, he’d mentioned eating out and Spokane was not known for its short lines on a Saturday. I’m pretty sure he hadn’t meant a drive-through either when he’d mentioned dinner. I wished he had but I had a feeling that’s not what he had in mind.
All of that paled though, when we would end up at the arena, during a sold out event.
The arena.
I think the arena could fit thousands of people, if not tens of thousands of people. I saw pictures of a Garth Brooks concert there from the 90s. There were so many people crammed into that space, I’d started hyperventilating just from looking at the snapshot.
Keeping the Xanax down without gagging was going to be hard while thinking of that many people crammed together in an arena.
I pulled my hair down from my ponytail and got the brush wet as I tried to remove the wave in my hair from being pulled back. Once my hair was in place, I threw on a little makeup and trudged toward the closet.
As I got closer to the closet doors, I snapped my fingers and spun back around. I forgot to take a Xanax.
I went back into the bathroom, pulling on my shirt and buttoning up the front. Wait, did I already take one? I glanced at the bottle, but it was still in the same position that I always left it in. Maybe I hadn't taken one yet. Not taking one wasn’t an option. I had to take one. My panic attacks weren’t pretty and Carlisle would already have to deal with my sullenness. I would struggle to keep a smile on my face and anxiety down as it was.
Opening the bottle, I popped a Xanax. I leaned over the sink and held my cupped hand under the faucet and turned on the sink. I sipped the water then widened my eyes as I stood up and met my own gaze in the mirror. I’d already taken a pill. I’d swallowed it without water.
“It’s okay. One is always good, two can only be better, right?” Two wouldn't hurt me. I had to have faith, everything was going to be okay. Deep down, though, I wasn't sure. Great. One more thing that would add to my anxiety for the night.
I bit my lip, and went back into the closet. Pants. I needed to put on some jeans. It wouldn’t be warm in the off-season event. I’d looked and looked for tickets and finally found them available on a forum where the commenters didn’t think it was funny to have an event like that in the fall. I got some fairly cheap considering the suggested retail price. People who couldn’t handle special events in any weather, should probably go home to their warmer climes.
Snorting at my own joke, I dug through my closet and pulled out one of my favorite pairs of jeans. They were faded in the front and had zeros and ones embroidered into the hem along the bottom. Zeros and ones made up the binary code for computers. Honestly, I lived computers and I couldn’t help but grab the jeans when I’d found them online. I loved that they had fit perfectly and I’d always wished I had somewhere to wear them.
I pulled them on, a little upset that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy wearing them.
Sitting on my bed for a minute, I tucked my hands under my thighs and rocked back and forth. I blinked at my slowly blurring vision. Was it a panic attack? I couldn’t remember what I’d done to get ready. My entire routine was off.
Had I forgotten to brush my teeth? I pushed off the bed and went into the bathroom. Reaching for my toothbrush, I blinked at the Xanax bottle staring at me. The last time I’d taken a Xanax to go to the office, I hadn’t felt the dose was enough. Maybe I would need an extra one, just in case? But I honestly couldn’t remember how many I’d taken by then. I was sure of at least one. Could you overdose on Xanax? I wasn’t sure.
My stomach clenched. I couldn’t go out there without some meds on board. I needed enough to be strong. I was so nervous.
I unscrewed the lid and popped a little pill into my mouth. I screwed the lid back on the bottle and placed the container in the medicine cabinet. The pill wouldn’t dissolve and I blinked as I sipped from my cupped hand under the sink. A slight sense of déjà vu made me slightly dizzy.
Xanax on board, I was almost ready. I wasn't sure how long Carlisle would wait until he came up to get me. The look in his eyes had promised me I would go. Whether I wanted to or not.
Whew. I reached out and stabled myself by grabbing on the doorjamb. Things were fuzzier than ever. My anxiety rarely expressed itself by confusing me. I took a deep breath and made my way down the stairs.
I accepted the fact that I was going. No getting out of that, obviously. Once I nodded to myself as if claiming it as fact, calm flooded over me. Ah, there it is. My Xanax kicked in and I smiled at Carlisle who still sat on the couch, watching the clock.
Narrowing my eyes, I spoke, “Okay, I'm ready to goat.” Did that sound right? Something sounded off in my voice. Did I have a frog in it? A frog in my voice? I snickered and then ignored the glance Carlisle shot my way.
Grabbing a light jacket, I stood at the door and waited while Carlisle walked out ahead of me.
Normally, my anxiety would rise and overwhelm me, taking my breath away and sending my heart into hyper drive. I stood there for a minute, waiting, but nothing showed up. Instead I could almost see a blurry motion as I moved my hand in front of my face.
How many Xanax had I taken? My reasoning was starting to get hazy and I actually was enjoying the fact that I wasn't nervous. I mean, I wasn’t nervous at all. I wasn’t anything. I had no feelings about anything.
I closed the door behind me, not even bothering to lock all the locks. I followed Carlisle to the car, slightly skipping but I think I stumbled and fell against a decorative rock set up at the end of the walkway.
In the car, I think we spoke about things but it's all really a big blur. His voice was echoey and mine had a hollow sound to it.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t name the restaurant we went to. All I remember was the darkness and I think I ate, but again, everything was covered in a hazy film.
I do remember declining the alcohol that he or the waiter offered me. I also remember trying to pay for dinner. I pulled my purse onto the table and unzipped the large pocket. I couldn’t remember why I was in there, but then I remembered that I wanted to pay. I had paid for the tickets, so I should pay for dinner. It made sense to me.
Digging through the voluminous bag, I couldn’t find my purse. It wasn’t in any of the pockets. With my hand on either side of the straps, I searched the depths of the bag. I finally looked up at Carlisle. “I can't find my purse.” I looked back down into my bag and rummaged around inside.
Carlisle's laughter brought my gaze back up. He tapped the top of my purse in my hands. “You're holding your purse. Are you okay?” I couldn’t pin point the concern in his eyes. Was I okay? Why? Wasn’t I acting like I was okay? I felt fine.
“Oh, yeah. How silly.” I wasn't even embarrassed. I wasn't anxious about it or anything. I just suddenly recognized that it was my purse.
I sat next to Carlisle as we drove the short distance to the arena. All the cars didn't do anything to me. We took forever to find a parking spot and then walked further than I’ve ever walked in public to get to the line where people were streaming to get into the arena.
Nothing. I wasn’t anxious at all. I stared around at the bright lights that turned the parking lot and event arena into midday. Men and women dodged around me, more than I could ever possibly count.
I giggled as I walked alongside him. I might have reached out and taken his hand, but the lights distracted me fairly easily and I kept blinking at their starbursting displays.
We showed our tickets at the doors and climbed the cement steps to our seats.
Folding my arms, I watched him. He leaned forward, watching the bikes as they revved through warm-ups. I'm not sure how long I sat there surrounded by blurry people and streaky lights, but slowly little things came into focus.
The man in front of us had a plate of nachos and the cheese looked like it was melted plastic. The woman behind me wore a thick layer of perfume that didn’t cover her unwashed odor. Every little movement on her part sent the cloud of foulness my way.
The longer I sat there the more in focus my surroundings became. I could feel my body again and it was screaming at me to run.
My mouth dried up and my tongue didn't want to work. Trying to force a swallow as I blinked, I shook my head slowly. The different shapes of individual people came into focus. A tightening in my stomach warned me that things weren't as loose as they had been earlier.
Something was happening and it wasn't making me feel very good inside.
As things became clearer and everything around me got louder, I shot my gaze around me while panic welled up inside me. Carlisle's cheering and clapping became more enhanced. I could suddenly feel the pulsation from the crowd as they cheered and clapped. The revving of the dirt bikes as they flew over the dirt track warred with the screechy voice of the announcer who said something about a popular soda.
My panic mounted, the rise constant instead of an ebb and flow I was used to. I reached out and gripped Carlisle's forearm. He turned to face me, his eyes questioning. I grimaced, certain I was going to throw up. “I think you need to go.”
